


Preserves

by FirozTaverbi



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Domestic, Fluff, M/M, enough snark to kill a man
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-15
Updated: 2015-11-15
Packaged: 2018-05-01 19:41:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5218346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FirozTaverbi/pseuds/FirozTaverbi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Science meets cookery. A lot of sugar is involved and, since it's Vexen, also a healthy dose of salt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Preserves

"Observe the expert at work as he meticulously ladles the fruits of his labour into freshly sterilised jars..."

"Oh, shut up. I'm concentrating."

The kitchen was hot and humid, a sheen of condensation on the windows. The sickly aroma of cooked fruit mingled with the scent of spices in the air. Covering the work-tops was the clutter of batch cooking, as well as a dozen steaming mason jars fresh out of the microwave. Vexen was leaning over the stove, carefully distributing the hot, sticky jam he had spent the afternoon making.

"Aren't you going to submit that for spectral analysis first?" quipped his partner, who had taken up residence in the only corner of the kitchen which hadn't been co-oped for Vexen's endeavours. He had some work open on his laptop, but he didn't seem to be paying it much attention. 

Vexen hissed in irritation. "Marluxia! Ugh, now I've spilled it." He reached for a sterile cheesecloth and wiped the jar down. Marluxia simply smirked.

It had started with rhubarb. A lot of rhubarb. So much that even the neighbours were beginning to tire of the generous donations which kept showing up in their porches. Eventually, ready to file for a divorce if he had to eat another serving of rhubarb crumble, Vexen resorted to buying several kilograms of sugar and a box of preserving wax, and spent a long afternoon hunched over his biggest crock pot stirring what would become a surprisingly edible rhubarb chutney.

Now it was late September, and Vexen was eager to process the last of the apples before the winter squashes were ready for harvest. Marluxia, as per usual, was "helping".

"The jam maker lovingly caresses his jars, as they will be vital if he is to survive the brutal winter."

"Will you stop that? I'm not the subject of a nature documentary."

"If you were, you might be more consenting to my filming of your mating rituals."

" _Marluxia!_ "

Marluxia's phone bleeped with an incoming email. He scanned it dispassionately and put the phone down again without bothering to respond. 

"What are we even going to do with all of these?" he asked. An entire cupboard had already had to be vacated to make room for the jams, chutneys, marmalades and preserves Vexen had cooked up over the summer.

"The way I see it, that's your problem," Vexen sniffed. He had progressed to pouring paraffin wax over the jam. "It's your fault we ended up with all of this in the first place." They had moved into the new house in the spring of last year; Marluxia, who had less a green thumb so much as a green entire body, rapidly brought the previously dull garden under his command. He spent most of his weekends kneeling in the dirt. After living in apartments for the best part of two decades, Vexen knew Marluxia was relishing the challenges of real gardening. Unfortunately it had resulted in a number of gluts of produce as his labours, literally, bore fruit.

"We won't have to worry about buying Christmas presents. Ever again."

"Hah. I'll take that."

"Besides," Marluxia continued smugly, "I'm starting to think you actually _enjoy_ this. And just when I didn't think you could get any gayer."

Vexen glanced over, one eyebrow raised. "Says the man with pink hair."

"It's not pink, it's amaranth," Marluxia replied in a tone of theatrical offence, flicking the fluffy locks which hung around his shoulders. They both sniggered. "We should sell these. The logo can be you in a fifties' housewife costume. 'Delicious preserves handmade by genuine homosexuals'."

"I really don't think that plural is appropriate. Only one of us is gay and he isn't lifting a finger to help."

"I'm going to do your marketing."

"Are you, now. And here I was thinking the only thing you were good for was smartass commentary."

"I am a man of many talents."

His work complete, Vexen wiped an arm across his forehead and steeled himself for the rather less exciting prospect of clearing up. While he stacked the bowls and utensils in the sink Marluxia took it upon himself to sample the jam.

"Is this just apple and blackberry? It's good. Less sweet than your last batch."

"I used five percent less sugar this time, and ten percent more lemon zest."

"I expect a full report of your experiments by Monday," Marluxia said. He leaned against the counter, studying Vexen unabashedly while his partner moved about the kitchen.

"If you're going to get in the way, you could at least help," said Vexen, throwing Marluxia a dish cloth. "Thanks for offering. Why don't you start on the washing up."

"I can think of a number of reasons." But Marluxia rinsed the worst of the peel, pulp and sludge from each implement then filled the sink with scalding soapy water. This, he could do. Marluxia had never been a good cook - he could use the toaster and microwave, but that was the extent of his proficiency - but Vexen's eagerness to experiment in the kitchen more than made up for it. Unfortunately that did mean that Marluxia ended up doing rather more washing up than he originally bargained for.

"The department is doing a charity fundraiser next week, actually," Vexen mused as he wiped down the counters. "I'm sure I could sell a jar or two."

"Especially if they had pictures of you in a dress on the label."

"Why, would you buy them all?"

Marluxia grinned. "That would rather defeat the purpose of selling them."

"I'm aware that you're a horrible egotist, so I suppose it bears reiterating that not _everybody_ finds me as attractive as you do," Vexen drawled. Marluxia turned from the dishes to study Vexen's rather nicely packaged backside, just as his partner was leaning over the counter. He looked so _smart_ in properly tailored clothes. Originally Marluxia wasn't sure he wanted a partner who cycled to work every day, but even he had to admit that all that exercise paid off.

"I can't imagine why not," he said, sounding rather more sincere than perhaps he intended. Vexen shook his head, his tied-back hair swinging a little.

"I think we'd have rather more success if _you_ were on the label."

"Maybe we should just stick to clipart of fruit."

"Oh? You don't like the sound of 'Marluxia's Marmelades'? I think it has a certain ring to it, yes..."

"No. As your official business partner, I am vetoing that."

Vexen tossed his cloth into the laundry bin, coming over to "help" Marluxia with the washing up, which meant watching him with a self-satisfied expression, as if he was proud of himself for domesticating Marluxia so effectively.

"Observe," he said smugly, "The expert at work..."


End file.
